


Blame it on the Mistletoe

by tayryn



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9011941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/pseuds/tayryn
Summary: Only one person would have nerve enough to break into her house on Christmas morning.





	

~*007*~

Olivia’s eyes opened suddenly, and she sat up with a gasp.

Her heart was pounding, and she realized she was panting softly, uncertain at what had woken her. She held her breath, willing herself to calm down as she listened carefully for anything out of the ordinary in her flat. 

Not hearing anything, but knowing she’d woken up for a reason, Olivia reached back, sliding her hand beneath her pillow, and curled her fingers around the grip of her gun. Removing the gun, she thumbed the safety off, then slipped out of her bed.

She padded barefoot over the carpeted floor to the bedroom door, quietly opened it, then began creeping carefully down the hall. She stopped short when she reached the living room, and only just stopped herself from gasping out loud at the sight that greeted her.

There, beside her fireplace, was a small, gaily decorated Christmas tree, its lights twinkling brightly at her in the darkness of the room. And beneath its branches were several wrapped presents.

Olivia pushed the safety back into place on her gun, then lowered it to her side, as she moved further into the room.

Only one person would have nerve enough to break into her house.

Bond.

How he’d managed to do so with a Christmas tree, decorations and gifts without waking her was a mystery however.

Cheeky bugger, she thought, a fond smile touching her lips before she could stop it.

“Merry Christmas, M.”

She turned sharply at the softly uttered words to find Bond standing in the shadowy archway between her living room and dining room.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Bond continued in a low voice. “I had every intention of being gone before you woke up.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just…” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s Christmas, and I know things have been crazy the last couple months --”

“So you thought you’d break in and pretend to be one of Santa’s Elves?”

“Yeah.” Bond nodded and shrugged.

Olivia shook her head fondly.

Only Bond.

It was rather sweet of him, she thought, to go to all this trouble for her. 

“I’ll be going now,” he said, as he crossed the room. “Merry Christmas, M,” he repeated as he passed in front of her.

“007.” Olivia reached out to grasp his arm, stopping him.

“Ma’am?” Bond looked at her.

“If you’ve nowhere else to be, why don’t you stay. We’ll have breakfast. I’m sure there’s something in my kitchen I can throw together for us to eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Olivia nodded. “As you pointed out, it’s Christmas.”

“I would like that,” he replied with a small smile. “Thank you, M.”

She patted his arm. “First things first, I’m going to go wash up, then get dressed, and then we can see to breakfast.”

Bond nodded. “All right.”

“I won’t be long,” she told him, then hurried out of the room, not wanting to dwell on her reasons for asking him to stay.

**~*007*~**

The moment M left the living room, James closed his eyes, feeling his body sag in relief as he took a moment to compose himself.

He had known it was a risk, breaking into her home to put up the tree, but it was a risk he’d been willing to take to give her even a little bit of Christmas cheer. Work _had_ been crazy, as it was wont to be this time of year, with lots of minor crises arising in greater frequency, and he’d noticed her looking just a touch frazzled (though she hid it from most).

And while he was relieved M wasn’t angry, James knew it wasn’t the worry over her anger that had his heart pounding furiously in his chest. No. It was the sight of M, fresh from her bed, her hair adorably tousled, barefoot, and wearing simple, black cotton pyjamas that caused his heart to beat near to bursting.

The same sight also had arousal slamming into him something fierce, and it had taken every ounce of control he possessed to not simply close the distance between them to take her in his arms, and kiss her.

James glanced up at the archway between the living room and dining room to the sprig of mistletoe he’d hung there.

Perhaps, if he was fortunate he would catch her beneath it, and yet still steal a kiss. He wanted more, of course, but he would be satisfied with a taste.

“Keep dreaming, Bond,” he told himself, with a shake of his head.

Removing his jacket, he tossed it over the back of M’s armchair, then made his way to the kitchen; reaching into his back pocket as he went. There was no reason he could not get a head start preparing their breakfast.

**~*007*~**

Feeling refreshed from the quick shower she’d decided to take, Olivia hurried down the hall toward the living room, wearing a casual pair of black slacks, a red blouse (in the spirit of the day), along with a touch of make-up.

The smell of frying bacon had her detouring to the kitchen.

As she approached, another sound reached her ears over that of the sizzling bacon.

Humming.

No. Singing, she realized.

Reaching the kitchen, and peering around the corner, Olivia couldn’t help smiling at the sight that welcomed her.

Wearing a pair of arse-hugging black jeans, a black jumper with the sleeves rolled up, and sporting a Santa hat, James stood in front of her stove in his socks, singing softly as he fried the bacon. 

Olivia bit her bottom lip as she laughed silently.

He continued to sing in a sotto voice, swaying along with the tune, completely unaware that she was watching him. She smiled. He was a good singer, and had a beautiful voice, which surprised her.

“That smells good,” she called out.

When James turned to acknowledge her return, Olivia couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of her when she caught sight of the front of his jumper. The collar, which she hadn’t noticed in her initial perusal was red, but it was the image of the headless elf’s body down the front of the jumper that elicited the giggle from her.

Bond. James Bond, was wearing a traditional ugly Christmas jumper.

The realization tickled her, and stoked the mirth inside her.

James grinned at her, then held his arms out to give her the full effect. “Do you like it?”

“I would never have pegged you for being the ugly Christmas jumper type, 007.”

He shrugged, still grinning at her. “It’s Christmas.”

Olivia shook her head. “And the hat?”

His grin grew, and he simply shrugged again. “Goes with the jumper.”

She laughed, shaking her head again.

James turned back to the stove to tend to the bacon. “How do you feel about French Toast?” he asked her, transferring several cooked pieces of bacon from the pan to a waiting plate covered with a paper towel.

“I love French Toast,” Olivia answered.

“Good,” he said, adding two more pieces of bacon to the pan.

“Do I smell coffee?”

James nodded. “Hold on, I’ll pour you a cup,” he told her, as he flipped the bacon in the pan, then laid the fork on the counter.

“I can do it myself.”

“I know,” he said, flashing her a smile. “Just think of it as part of your Christmas gift.”

Olivia snorted softly. She watched, not surprised that he not only moved about her kitchen with ease, but also knew which mug was her favourite, and just how she took her coffee.

“Here you go,” James said, as he approached, then handed her the steaming mug.

“Thank you, 007,” she murmured, bringing the mug to her lips, and taking a small sip. “Mmm…” Olivia hummed as the flavour rolled over her tongue; he made excellent coffee. She took another sip, savouring the bitter brew as Bond returned to the stove, then walked over to stand beside him.

Placing the mug on the counter, she reached for the bowl and the carton of eggs. “I’ll get started on the French toast.”

“All right.” James nodded. “This is almost finished,” he gestured to the pan in front of him, “then I can start cooking the French Toast.”

“No. I’ll do it,” Olivia told him as she whisked the egg mixture. “I can’t have you doing all the cooking.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“It’s really okay, M, I enjoy cooking.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes.” James flashed her a smile. “I rarely go out for dinner when I’m not off on assignment.”

Olivia was surprised. She’d thought he’d be the dining out sort, and told him so.

James chuckled. “I was for a while, but it grew… old,” he told her. “I got tired of going out every evening, and couldn’t be arsed to find someone to dine with each night, so I began to stay home, and started cooking my own meals. My aunt taught me the basics when I was a young boy; the rest I learned on my own.”

“You’re a man of many talents, 007.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am,” James agreed, smirking when she rolled her eyes at him before she turned away to fetch another pan to cook the French toast; missing the longing look in his eyes as he continued to stare after her.

Moments later, frying pan in hand, she returned to his side, and placed the pan on the stove; turning the flame on beneath it.

“Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?” James asked her as she placed the coated bread into the now heated pan.

“The dining room,” she replied. “This way we can enjoy the tree you brought me.”

James smiled, and nodded. “Sounds good.” He lifted the remaining pieces of bacon from the pan, adding them to the plate with the other cooked strips, then turned the flame off, and moved the pan to a cool ring. “Since this is done, I’ll go set the table.”

“All right.” Olivia nodded as she flipped the toast. “Are two pieces of French Toast going to be enough for you?”

“Yes, that will be fine,” he answered, as he got two plates from the cupboard, then opened the drawer where she kept her utensils.

“Leave the plates,” Olivia told him, gesturing to the pan in front of her. “I’ll bring them in when these are finished.”

“Yes, ma’am.” James placed the plates on the counter beside the stove. He then retrieved the syrup from the cupboard, then carried it and the utensils out of the kitchen to the dining room. He returned a couple minutes later, just as she was lifting the French Toast from the pan to place them on the plates. “Want me to take those?”

Olivia shook her head. “I’ve got them. You grab the bacon.”

“All right. I’m going to pour myself a coffee, would you like me to refresh yours?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She smiled, turning the ring off. Picking up the plates, she glanced over at him as she made her way to the door. “Will you be able to manage those and the bacon.”

James nodded, as he filled his cup, then topped hers up, then asked, “Is there anything else you need or want?”

“No. Just you,” Olivia called back as she walked out of the kitchen, missing the grin on his face, even as hers heated with the double-meaning of her response.

She walked into the dining room, her cheeks still warm, and set each plate down, then turned to look at the Christmas tree and the gifts beneath it. She moved closer, leaning against the archway between the two rooms, as she continued to stare at the tree, and could not help wondering, if perhaps there was more to it than simply bringing her a little Christmas cheer.

Deep in her heart, she hoped so, even though she knew it to be a foolish wish. After all, he had told her he’d planned to be gone before she woke. 

“M. Can you…” She turned at the sound of James’ voice to find him walking slowing into the dining room, the plate of bacon balanced precariously on top of the two mugs of coffee. She quickly stepped over to him, and rescued the plate before it could fall.

“Thanks,” James said in a relieved voice, as she placed the plate on the table between the place settings.

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else?” she asked.

“No, that’s it,” he replied. “Unless you’d prefer jam instead of syrup.” She shook her head. “Then no, that’s it,” he told her. He gestured to the table with her mug. “Which seat is yours?”

Olivia pointed to the chair on the right side of the table, and James set the steaming mug down next to her plate, and then he pulled her chair out for her. She smiled her thanks as she sat down, then waited for him to sit across from her.

“Tuck in,” she told him.

They ate, talking amicably about past Christmases; James recalling the few happy times he’d spent with his parents before their accident; Olivia regaling him with stories from her childhood, and at his insistence, a few tales of Christmases shared with her husband.

“Have you had enough or would you like me to fix you a couple more pieces?” Olivia asked him when he finished chewing his last bite of French Toast.

“No thank you.” James shook his head. “However, I’ll finish up the bacon unless you would like some more.”

Olivia shook her head, and waved him to it. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” he said, as he pulled the plate closer, then grabbed a strip of bacon and took a bite.

“While you finish munching on that, I’ll take care of the dishes,” she told him.

“Leave them for later. I’ll wash them for you after you’ve opened your presents.”

“My…” Her head snapped around to the tree, and the packages beneath it, then back to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

“They’re not just for decoration, M.”

Olivia was speechless. “Bond…”

“M,” he cut her off. “It’s Christmas.”

**~*007*~**

James watched the emotions play across her face as she looked back at the tree a second time before turning back to him, her expression one of surprised delight. And while he could only just make it out, James could discern a hopeful glint in her blue eyes, and he found himself wondering just what it was she was hoping for.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s nothing much, I promise,” James told her, and forgetting about the bacon, he pushed his chair back, and got to his feet. He stepped around the table, and offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

M eyed him for a moment, then eased her chair back, and placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her to her feet. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow with a smile, as he guided her into the living room, sparing only a brief glance at the mistletoe as they passed under it, and around to the sofa.

“Mind if I turn on the fire?” he asked once she was seated.

“Not at all. That would be lovely.”

James grinned, then stepped over to the fireplace. Seconds later, with the flick of a switch, the fire in the hearth flamed into existence. “Much better,” he remarked, bending to scoop up the wrapped packages before joining her on the sofa. He piled them on his lap, then held one out to her. “For you.”

“007…” She shook her head, even as she took the colourful gift from him. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” he responded. “Now stop being so stubborn, and just open your present.”

M glared at him, but as the look held no heat, he simply grinned back at her as she then began to carefully unwrap the present.

“Just tear it,” James urged her.

“The paper’s too lovely,” she countered.

“I’ll bring you the rest of the roll tomorrow. Just tear it, M.”

M chuckled at the exasperation she could hear in his voice, and so she ripped the wrapping paper away to reveal a box containing a bottle of her favourite perfume.

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew this was my favourite.”

“I have my ways.”

M snorted.

James knew what she was thinking; that he’d snooped around her flat. Yes, he had broken into her home numerous times over the years – both her current dwelling, and the penthouse flat she’d lived in when her husband had still been alive – but he’d never gone into her bedroom. No, that was the one room he’d refused to enter, and the one room he wanted (hoped) to be invited into.

He merely smiled, then handed her the next gift, and looked at her expectantly. M took the gift, and without any further protest, tore away the paper to find herself holding a tin of her favourite tea.

Without saying a word, James handed her the next present, then the others in succession until there was a small mountain of paper at her feet, and a small pile of gifts on the table, and one present left in his lap.

James picked up the last present, and held it out to her. “Last one,” he said in a quiet voice.

**~*007*~**

Olivia looked down at the box resting in the palm of Bond’s hand, then back up into his face when she recognized the distinctive packaging, and felt her heart begin to race. How had she missed that particular box sitting under the tree? Or in his lap for that matter?

“You said the gifts were nothing much,” she said softly, eyeing the box.

Asprey.

“I lied,” he replied simply, still holding out the box.

It was a gift box from Asprey. Yes, he _had_ lied.

Olivia shook her head. It was too much. “007, I --”

“M,” he cut her off. “Please.”

Something in his eyes, in his voice, told her there was more to this gift; that it held more meaning than the previous presents he’d given her. She reached out slowly, and lifted the box from his hand, a shiver running through her when his fingers curled to touch hers.

Lowering the box to her lap, Olivia tugged the purple ribbon free, letting the ends fall to rest on her thighs, then lifted the top of the box off. Inside was a dark purple, velour jewellery box which she carefully removed.

She held the unopened box between her fingers, then glanced over at James to find him watching her intently. Transferring the box to the palm of her hand, she carefully prised the lid open.

Olivia inhaled sharply, then whispered his name on the exhale, “Oh, James…” 

“Do you like it?”

She nodded

Nestled on a bed of black velour within the jewellery box was a necklace with a tear drop pendant; a pear shaped sapphire with a pavé surround and marquise cut diamond at the top, all set in platinum. It was the most exquisite necklace she had ever seen.

“Yes, I do. But I can’t accept this,” she answered, tracing her finger over the pendant.

“Yes you can.”

Olivia shook her head.

“M…”

“It’s too much,” she spoke over him, lifting her gaze to meet his. 

His eyes held hers.

“The moment I saw the necklace, I knew I had to get it for you. The sapphire reminded me of your eyes. The cost was unimportant.”

Olivia felt her heart flutter at his words. She was touched, but she couldn’t accept it. The perfume, tea and other small gifts were bad enough, but this…

“Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t that expensive?” James asked, as if reading her mind.

“No.”

James smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He reached out for the box, and took it from her hands, then carefully removed the necklace, and held it up, letting the pendant dangle from his fingers.

It sparkled in the firelight, and Olivia could not help reaching out to touch it.

“It really is beautiful,” she murmured.

“And it will look even more so around your neck,” he said. “Will you let me put it on you?”

Olivia took a deep breath, then slowly released, sounding almost as if she was sighing, as she continued to finger the tear drop. “I shouldn’t…”

“Yes, you should,” James countered, then gestured with his head. “Turn around.”

She hesitated for a moment, then turned in her seat, giving him her back, the purple Asprey box and ribbon falling from her lap to the floor. She heard and felt him move closer, then felt the heat of him all long her back, causing goose flesh to rise all over her body. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the pendant fall in front of her eyes to rest against her chest, which began to rise and fall more rapidly when she felt his fingers brush against the back of her neck as he fastened the necklace. 

Her eyes closed when he rested his hands on her shoulders, the heat of his touch scorching her skin through the silk of her blouse. 

“There,” he said in a low voice, and Olivia opened her eyes when he began to gently turn her back round to face him. “Let’s see if I was right about how it would look.”

Olivia watched James lower his eyes, and saw a smile curl the corners of his mouth before he lifted them back up to meet hers.

“And I was. It looks great.”

She glanced down to look at the pendant resting against her breasts.

“Although, not so much with the red blouse,” he remarked dryly, and she laughed.

Touching the stone with her fingers, she continued to chuckle. “No, not with the red blouse.” She traced the shape of the charm. “It’s beautiful.”

“Does that mean you’ll accept it?”

Olivia looked up at him, then nodded slowly. “Yes. I shouldn’t, as it really is too much, but yes.” She leaned toward him, raising her right hand to cup his left cheek, then pressed a kiss to his other cheek. “Thank you, James,” she whispered as she pulled away, her hand lingering on his cheek for a second longer before she removed her hand.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, surprising her by catching her wrist in his hand, and lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss to her palm. “Merry Christmas, M.”

She felt her herself stop breathing at his action, as he looked steadily at her. When he swayed closer, still grasping her hand, Olivia tugged her hand free from his, then stood. “Excuse me a moment, would you, 007,” she said, then hurried out of the room.

Once in the hall, she stopped, then leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, and took several calming breaths.

For a moment she’d thought… Olivia shook her head. But no, it couldn’t be. He’d just been caught up in the moment, she rationalized. Nothing more.

She glanced down at the necklace, and lifted her hand to touch the pendant with her fingers; the skin of her palm still tingled where his lips had been.

Olivia smiled; two thoughts occurring to her at once.

She glanced in the direction of the living room before pushing herself away from the wall, then continued down the hall toward her bedroom.

**~*007*~**

James sighed as he watched her leave.

“Idiot!” he chastised himself. “You pushed your luck too far.”

He reached up to touch the cheek she’d kissed; the skin still tingled.

Her hand on his cheek had been surprising, her kiss even more so, and his heart had begun to pound in his chest, and he’d been unable to stop himself from grabbing hold of her hand, and kissing her palm. And when he’d held her gaze for several heartbeats after that, he’d thought, rather foolishly he realized now, that he’d seen something in her eyes.

Great seducer, my arse, he swore at himself, as he closed his eyes and hung his head, falling back against the back of the sofa with a sigh. How wrong he’d been.

At least he’d been able to convince her to keep the necklace. That was something at least.

He’d been truthful when he’d told her that the moment he’d seen the necklace he’d known it was meant to be hers; that the colour had indeed reminded him of her eyes. The sapphire, so brilliant in colour and sparkle, had reminded him of the brilliance and sparkle in her incredibly beautiful blue eyes.

He was at least thankful he hadn’t told her that. Silly besotted fool, he thought. That’s what he was.

With another sigh, James opened his eyes, then stood. He made his way to the dining room, where he began to gather their breakfast dishes.

“James…”

He turned at the call of his name to find her standing beneath the mistletoe, her hands clutched together against her chest.

“M?”

“Would you…” she began, then stopped. “Leave the dishes, and come here, please.” It wasn’t given as an order, but James heard it as such, and walked over to stand before her.

Beneath the mistletoe.

“I’ve been waiting for the correct opportunity to give this to you, and I realized what better time or day than today.”

She held out her hand out, and he automatically lifted his, palm up, out to her. Cradling his hand in her left, she placed her right hand in his. Her fingers uncurled, and he felt her place something in his palm.

“Merry Christmas, James,” M told him with a small smile, then lifted her hand away.

In his palm was a key. It looked like the key to his Aston Martin, but he knew that was impossible, and yet…

“M?” He could not keep the hope out of his voice.

She nodded. “It’s the key for your DB5.”

James looked down at the key, his fingers closing around it, then opening again before he raised his eyes to hers again. “How?”

“I had Q division put her back together, complete with all the usual refinements, as well as a few extra enhancements.”

“Oh my god, M.” James’ voice was laced with awe.

“I know how much you love that car,” M said simply, and James nodded mutely. “And it’s my fault you lost her.”

James frowned. “No it wasn’t.”

“You lost her while saving my life.”

“That doesn’t make it your fault.” James shook his head. “No, Silva was responsible for blowing up my car, not you.”

“And I was responsible for Silva.”

“No. Silva was responsible for himself,” he told her, the memory of cradling her in his arms, as her life slowly bled away, clenched at his heart. “But I don’t want to talk about him, or that whole incident. Not today.”

M nodded. “All right.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. He’d very nearly lost her at Skyfall, and still had nightmares about that night. Compared to that horrible moment, losing his car had been nothing. It was, in part, why he’d chosen to sneak into her house for Christmas. M being alive, and still part of his life was a gift in and of itself.

M smiled.

“So all the usual refinements you say?” James remarked, fiddling with the key.

M nodded, her smile growing. “Yes. Uncomfortable ejector seat and all.”

James laughed, then grinned as he looked down at the key again. “I can’t believe… Six actually paid to restore my car?!”

She shook her head.

“Then who…” His eyes grew wide, and he clutched the key tightly in his hand. “M? You didn’t?!”

She shrugged, then responded in a quiet voice, “It was the least I could do.”

James shook his head in disbelief; stunned that she would do that… and for him, but it really was… “Too much. M, it’s too much.”

M laughed softly, touching the necklace she wore. “Pot kettle, 007.”

James chuckled, then sobered seconds later. “Seriously, M. The cost of the necklace is nothing compared to the cost of restoring the DB5, even without the enhancements, given how little of her there was left.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I wanted to do it.”

James was stunned.

She’d fixed his car. His beloved Aston Martin.

Overwhelmed, he reacted without thinking, and lifted his hand to cradle the side of her face, then drew her close as he ducked his head to kiss her.

**~*007*~**

Olivia’s eyes grew wide with surprise, then fluttered closed when James’ lips pressed against hers.

It was the most chaste kiss she had ever received, and also the most powerfully arousing one, and it lasted only seconds. 

Her eyes opened when he eased his mouth from hers, and she found herself staring into his incredible blue eyes. “James,” she whispered, unable to hide the longing in her voice.

He kissed her again, and when she felt his tongue flick against her lips, she parted them to allow his tongue entrance. She moaned at her first taste of him; one of her hands gripping his side, the other resting on his chest, and slowly rising to clutch at his shoulder as the kiss deepened.

When they parted several minutes later, they were both panting softly.

“Is this something I should blame on the mistletoe?” James asked her, his breath warm against her lips.

“Only if you didn’t mean it,” Olivia replied.

“I meant it.”

“Then no, don’t blame it on the mistletoe,” she told him. “In fact, I think you should do it again.”

James grinned, then drew her close once more, lowering his head again to cover her mouth with his.

The kiss started slow, but with every passing heartbeat grew into a passionate exchange of lips and tongues. 

Olivia slipped her arm around James’ waist, her fingers fisting in his jumper, and her hand on his shoulder slid up to curl around the back of his head, her fingers weaving into his short hair, as James clutched her close, holding her body firmly against his.

“I have wanted to hold you like this, and kiss you for so long,” James admitted in a murmur against her lips, as they parted only long enough to draw some much needed breath.

Olivia leaned back, allowing him to see the same want, the same desire in her eyes that she could see reflected in his. “So have I,” she responded in an equally quiet voice.

James grinned before capturing her lips again.

Twin groans echoed throughout the room as they hungrily kissed each other. A low whimper escaped her when James trailed his hands down her back to grasp her hips and pull her even closer. She could feel him growing hard against her, and was filled a deep ache as her arousal surged.

Olivia pulled her mouth from his, her chest rising and falling rapidly, matching his as they sought to catch their breath. The want and desire she had seen in his eyes minutes before had grown; his eyes dark and swirling with arousal.

With a gentle push on his chest, Olivia stepped out of James’ arms, then reached down to take his hand in hers. Without speaking a word, she turned and led him out of the living room, then down the hall.

When they reached her bedroom, she crossed the threshold but James stopped; their hands remaining clasped in the doorway. She turned back to look at him.

“James?”

“M, are you sure about this?” he asked.

A brilliant smile filled her face, and she nodded. “Yes, James. I am very sure. But if you’re…”

James stepped across the threshold, and into her bedroom before she could finish her sentence, and Olivia laughed softly, her eyes dancing with affection, as she drew him over to her still unmade bed. 

Turning to face him, she reached for his other hand, then guided both to the top button of her blouse. “Time to unwrap your present,” she told him in a husky voice, then lowered her arms to her sides expectantly. “But you should know, this will be the only time I am in any way passive.”

James grinned at the heated look in her eyes. “Good. I like when my toys are interactive.”

Olivia laughed.

**~*007*~**

Olivia stretched with a soft hum of satisfaction, then reclined back against the pillows piled up behind her, the blankets falling to her waist, leaving her upper body bare.

“Don’t!” James said when she started to pull them up.

She glanced at him, propped up beside her on the bed, the lower half of his body covered by the blankets, and favoured him with a fond smile, shaking her head in amusement but made no further attempt to cover herself as he stared avidly at her chest.

“I was right,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the teardrop pendant resting between her bare breasts. “This looks much better without the red blouse.”

Olivia laughed.

“Though, I must admit,” James continued, his fingers still circling the sapphire, “when I bought the necklace, I did not even dare to dream that I would get to see you wearing _just_ the necklace.”

She reached out to run her fingers through his hair, tousled from their lovemaking. “It’s Christmas, James. A time for miracles.”

He moved his hand to cup her breast, lightly brushing his thumb over her nipple. “It must be, because never in a million years did I ever believe I would be here with you like this. Dreamt about it, yes, but never believed it would ever really happen.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re M,” he replied simply, then shrugged. “I know my reputation.”

“As do I,” Olivia told him, then slid her hand down to cradle the side of his face. “ _I_ know you’re not your reputation, James.”

He nuzzled her palm. “Thank you.”

“Would it surprise you to know I felt the same as you? That this would or could never happen?” she asked him.

“Yes, actually, it would.”

“Well, you must admit, James, I’m not at all like your usual fare.”

“No. You’re not,” he agreed. “You far surpass them.”

Olivia shook her head.

“But you do,” he countered. “My _usual_ fare, as you called them are a dime a dozen. There’s nothing special about them. They’re just a means to an end when I am on assignment, and you know that.” His hand slid up from her breast to her shoulder to rest against her throat, his thumb stroking her jaw. “But you, by god, to me, you are everything.”

“James…”

“M… Olivia,” he corrected himself at her delicately raised brow. “The first time I saw you, I wanted you. As the years passed, getting to know you, I not only still wanted you, I fell in love with you. You are the only woman I have ever truly wanted to be with.”

She gazed steadily into his eyes, and could see that he meant every word.

“I love you, Olivia,” James admitted quietly.

“And I love you, James,” Olivia whispered. “I have for some time now.”

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss her. She slid her hand from his cheek into his hair, and pulled him closer, moaning into his mouth as he shifted his body on top of hers. After several moments, he eased his lips from hers.

“How could you not?” James grinned.

“Oh, do shut up, 007,” Olivia told him, then pulled him back down for another kiss.

She was extremely grateful to have woken up before he’d managed to slip out of her flat, thus giving her what she’d wanted most for Christmas.

James Bond.


End file.
